


birdsong

by sternenschnuppendrachenschicksal



Category: The Secret Garden - All Media Types
Genre: Birds, Letters, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Podfic Welcome, Wordcount: 100-1.000, Wordcount: 100-500
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:20:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28080807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sternenschnuppendrachenschicksal/pseuds/sternenschnuppendrachenschicksal
Summary: There are things Colin can´t say.
Relationships: Colin Craven/Dickon Sowerby
Kudos: 4





	birdsong

Sometimes when Colin sits at his open window or in the garden, when Dickon is not there, and even when he is away at school, and a bird lands near, he likes to think that Dickon sent it. To check up on him, and to make him smile.  
And they always make him smile.

Colin tells the birds a message for Dickon then, though he never tells Dickon that or asks about it, for maybe he doesn´t sent them, doesn´t want to check on him or make him smile, and anyway he doesn´t speak the birds language, not like Dickon, and most often when he speaks the birds fly away, spooked by him, before he really says much, and there is so much to say, too much for a little bird to say.  
Too much for him to say too.

  
So he just walks beside Dickon when they are both in the garden, relays on him to conter the slight sway to the left in his body, and asks him about the animals and the plants, to share his knowledge like they are of equal footing. When he is at school, he writes letters, letters he knows Mary reads to Dickon, because Dickon struggles with reading and Colin can´t keep the words simple or the sentences on line and his writing is always ink splotted and too small crammed on the paper like into an overflown chest. Written words are easier for him and harder for Dickon.  
There is no balance there, none that Colin can find at least.

Nature, Dickon tells him, is a perfect balance, and if you work for it a garden is too. Seasons come and go, while Colin smiles at every bird, keeps his hands and the heaviest words to himself, and tries not to think about the ways to tell, that do not involve words at all.


End file.
